


Emergency Contact

by highest_water



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highest_water/pseuds/highest_water
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All in all it had been a fairly normal day. Pleasant and forgettable. Then her phone had rung and everything had changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Contact

She’s grateful for the quiet that has settled in the truck, though she half wonders if the fear coursing through her veins is loud enough for David to hear. His face is calm, stoic even, yet the white of his knuckles stands out in the darkness. Generally speaking, David is a one-handed driver. An excellent one, but nevertheless one who seldom has both hands on the wheel of his truck. Work is different. Then he is all efficiency and speed but when he is safely in the comfort of his truck he normally has one hand resting on his knee or the gear shift (or sickeningly on the knee of Mary-Margaret).

Now, he grips the wheel as if his life depends on it.

It doesn’t. (She can’t quite chase away the thought that maybe _his_ does though.)

She glances at the fluorescent glow of the clock on the dashboard – 23.07.

How was it that only an hour ago today had been a normal day? Pleasant and forgettable.  
\--------  
She’d been drying up the dishes (and rewashing a few after Henry’s efforts) while humming along to a tune on the radio. She was planning on wrapping Henry’s gifts before heading to bed for the night. Despite him no longer believing in old St. Nick, she still didn’t want to be caught red handed with wrapping paper in hand so a 10pm date with a roll of tape and a bag of bows was called for.

Wrapping was hardly her forte but after careful tutoring from Mary-Margaret over the years she now made a passable effort as Santa’s Little Helper. She couldn’t help the way her mind had drifted to last year, when the two of them had wrapped Henry’s gifts together. When she had teased him for the absurd neatness of the parcels he wrapped and the way he managed to cram so much writing onto each gift tag.

She had physically shaken her head to chase the memories away (deep down knowing it was futile). It had been eight months. Eight months since she had pushed him away. Eight months spent learning how to be alone again. Eight months accepting that she would never quite feel the same again.

  
Then her phone rang.

Wiping away the remnants of the soap suds adorning her fingers, she frowned at the unknown caller ID before answering.

‘Emma Swan speaking’

‘Miss Swan, my name’s Robin. I’m the chief of Storybrooke fire station.‘

She’d known instantly why he was calling. Fear curling in her stomach and making her body tense. Her hand instinctively came to her mouth to hold in the cry she feared would slip out.

‘Miss Swan, Emma, are you still there?’

‘I’m here,’ she breathed throwing a frantic glanced down the hallway to where Henry’s bedroom door was safely shut. What the hell would she tell her son? It would break him (and the pieces of her which are left).

‘I’m calling because you’re the designated emergency contact for Killian Jones.’ He paused on the other end of the phone and Emma held her breath.

A moment lasting a lifetime.

‘I’m afraid he’s been in an accident and is currently in surgery.’

‘He’s alive?’ she whispered.

The voice on the other end of the phone – accented like Killian’s – suddenly lost the calm, authoritative manner of a boss and became that of a man who was also in pain. ‘He’s alive, Emma, but his injuries…they are serious.’

She sobs in relief and tries to focus on the information Robin conveys to her but she can’t quite collect herself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be safe.

  
Sensing her distress, Robin asks her if there was anyone she could call to come to the hospital with her. They need her there in case of complications. The decisions will lie with her.

‘David,’ she says, more to herself than to Robin, but then the reply of _I’ve met him_ comes and she can almost hear the man’s nod of approval. David had made the trip to see Killian on several occasions, often enough with Henry in tow. It makes sense that he would know the people now in Killian’s life.

Robin’s asks her to jot down his number to pass on to David and tells her he’ll keep her updated if there’s any change.

‘Emma, the man’s stubborn to a fault. He’s a fighter. We need to remember that.’

She somehow manages to form a coherent, if inadequate response.

Robin is right - Killian is a fighter. Lord knows he had fought for her.

With shaking fingers, she dials David’s number. Their conversation is a blur but she is opening her door to David and Mary-Margaret within twenty minutes. David’s already spoken to Robin. Has the hospital keyed in to the GPS in the truck to drive them down there. Mary-Margaret has an overnight bag to stay with Henry and she’s never been so grateful for the Nolan duo.

Mary-Margaret bustles around and gathers a bag of Emma’s things for her. Emma quietly toes open the door to Henry’s room to find him sleeping soundly. Her gaze fixes on the ramshackle collection of photos pinned to the memo board above his bed. Photos of him and the soccer team, photos of he and Emma, photos of he and Killian with matching mischievous grins.

She has never been religious. A life in the system didn’t leave with enough faith or goodwill or whatever is needed but she silently sends a prayer to someone, _anyone_ , so that Killian can pull through this. Henry needs this man in his life.

(She needs him.)  
\---------  
Fat, soft flakes of snow are landing on the windscreen of the truck now and the squeak of the wipers jolts her from her thoughts. A glance at David shows him with his jaw set and eyes fixed straight ahead. It’s his best friend lying on the surgical table too. The best friend who now lives more than an hour’s drive away because of her and yet David had never held it against her. In fact it was David who had calmed Henry down after he fled their apartment when she told him Killian was leaving. It was David who had driven Henry down to visit Killian on numerous occasions.

She reaches over to squeeze the hand of his nearest to her. They stay like that for some time. Quiet in their shared fears. She isn’t quite sure why the words slip from her mouth, but she’s scared and desperate and this is David.

‘He was supposed to be safe.’

She hates the way her voice breaks, hates her vulnerability (hates herself for not being able to prevent this).

David’s voice is calm when he speaks but his eyes are glazed from unshed tears. ‘Emma, look I always knew why you did what you did after… after everything that happened with Lily. You have to understand though that _none_ of it was your fault. Lily was an adult and she made her own choices.’

She’s crying again then. A steady stream falling like the snow outside.

‘Graham too,’ he adds softly.  
\--------  
It had all gone so terribly wrong. Twice. She had moved her and Henry across the country to be closer to David and Mary-Margaret after Graham’s death. It was supposed to be a routine call to a domestic incident but then the guy had drawn a gun and fired at her. Graham pushed her out of the way so hard that she had cracked a rib. He had taken the bullet. He took the bullet and everything that lay unspoken between them - the hope, the promises- was gone.

With the help of the Nolans, she had put herself back together again. Built a new life for her and Henry.

She’d met Killian at the station two weeks after the move when he swung by to meet David for lunch. He’d been charming and irritating in equal measures but he had made her smile, laugh even. (Something she was a little fearful she had forgotten how to do.)

Of course, she pushed him away. Kept him at arm’s length with snarky comments and put downs. There was something all too knowing in his eyes. Somehow, he understood her and it terrified her.

She put up her defence for the better part of two years. She allowed herself to be friends with him since he was so damn persistent and he was David’s best friend and Henry adored him. She just refused to acknowledge anything more.

He made it damn hard.

He was always there for her, always knew how to make her laugh, how to support her and her son and encourage her. Knew, quite simply, how to make her happy.

(What really baffled her, was that she made him happy too.)

It was ridiculous really, the circumstances of how they ‘officially’ became more than friends. (In reality, they had been more than that for quite some time.) They’d all gathered at his place before going to the annual charity dinner for the fire service. Killian was being honoured and his nerves had caused him to grumble for the better part of the hour the four of them had been there having drinks.

She’d gone to check on him after he’d disappeared for the better part of fifteen minutes. Mary-Margaret voicing her concerns that he may well have climbed out the window of his fourth story apartment. She found him in his bedroom, chuntering to himself in the mirror while trying to fix his bowtie when he threw it on the bed in a strop. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and his hair haphazard from running his hand through it. Emma had giggled from her vantage point in the doorway and his eyes met hers in the mirror.

‘I don’t know what you’re bloody laughing at,’ he huffed. She blames the way his cheeks were charmingly tinged with embarrassment at not being able to sort the tie; the tips of his ears pink too.

That was surely the reason she had sidled up to him, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly on the mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It should have terrified her, the jolt of electricity that ran through her, the certainty in the way he kissed her back.

This was Killian though. He knew her and so (despite looking wrecked from their kiss) he had made some daft comment about being devilishly handsome without the tie, taken her hand and pulled her back down to the lounge without comment. He had known that talking about what had just happened may have caused her immediate retreat.

She’d fallen in love with him some time ago, now she just needed to let herself be loved.

Mary-Margaret’s eyebrows may have nearly leapt right off her forehead but her and David made no comment regarding the way their fingers were tangled together. (They made no effort to hide the giddy grins on their faces though.)

David’s voice was loud in the quiet of the truck and cut through her thoughts, ‘We’re about twenty minutes away.’

She nodded to herself. Her heartbeat becoming more erratic at the thought of seeing him for the first time in eight months.  
\--------  
Lily had found her after being separated for the best part of fifteen years. The little girl who Emma had tried to take under her wing in the group home, the little girl who had followed Emma around adoringly now followed Emma into the police force. Emma had pulled some strings to get her a job at the station and she was overjoyed to see her thrive. She helped Lily to study for her exams, to fulfil her new dream of becoming a police officer. Killian, David and Mary-Margaret welcomed her to their little group with open arms. Each of them recognising what Lily meant to Emma and what she represented from her past.

Emma and Killian had carried what little belongings Lily had to her name up the twelve flights of stairs to her first apartment, had celebrated with her when she passed her exams and finally made it onto the force.

Had stood by and watched as her coffin was lowered into the ground.

It was her fault.

_Again_.

She’d gotten her killed. Just like Graham.

If she had only discouraged her from joining the force. If she had of stopped her from agreeing to be the bait for a man she knew to be dangerous. If she had of pushed Lily away before she got to close to her then she could have saved her. Emma Swan was bad news. She couldn’t keep the people she loved safe.

She couldn’t cope if Killian died because of her too. Couldn’t endure the thought of hurting him. She needed to focus on Henry. He had to be her priority.

She’d pushed Killian away. Retreated into herself and told him he was better off without her. He gave her space but refused to give up on her and so, in the end, she had spat vitriol at him that left a bitter taste in her mouth. Lies laced with enough truth to wound tripped off her tongue - how he was free to go and do as he pleased because he was obligated to no-one, how he wasn’t Henry’s father, how he had no real family.

The devastation on his face was seared into her mind but none of it would matter if it worked. If he left her, he’d be safe. He’d be alive.

In the end, she had to beg him to leave. To remember his promise to her that he would always support her and her decisions.

Defeat washed over his features and aged him in an instant.

  
‘I’m a man of my word, Swan. I’ll do anything for you. Even this.’

She’d managed to stay on her feet long enough for the door to softly close behind him. All of the air left her lungs in a rush as she collapsed to the floor. It was how Mary-Margaret had found her an hour later. (Killian had sent her. That started the tears again.)

Henry didn’t talk to her for a week. She can still hear his pained words loud and clear - _He’s the best thing to ever happen to us and you’ve ruined it. You made him leave. He’s the closest thing I have to a Dad and now he’s gone._

She never asked what David had said to Henry, but one day when David dropped him back from soccer practice he ran over to her and hugged her tight.

They’d managed. The two amigos again. Henry not so surreptitiously moved all the photos of the three of them to his own room to save Emma the pain of moving them herself. He got on the bus to stay with Killian every couple of weekends. Emma had been doubtful of it at first but Killian knew the driver and Henry spoke warmly of Leroy despite nicknaming him ‘Grumpy.’

They might not be together but they were safe and that was what mattered. She repeated those words to herself like a mantra when she came home and his boots weren’t by the door. When she accidently put the cereal he liked in the shopping cart or when Henry talked animatedly about how they were fixing up some boat Killian had bought and kept in the harbour by his new apartment.

She swiped at her phone until she found the picture Henry had sent her only last weekend of the tree they had decorated in Killian’s new home. Killian must have taken the picture as Henry stood proudly beaming by the side of the tree. It was an enormous thing and Emma knew instantly that Killian must have caved and let Henry choose. Christmas cards were littered across a shelf next to the tree and her heart clenched with something like pride that Killian had clearly won a place in the hearts of the people he now lived and worked with. Of course he had.

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t seen it before, but her eyes were now drawn to a flash of gold between two of the cards on the mantelpiece. She zoomed in until the photo was blurred but it was unmistakably of Killian, Henry and her. Their smiles wide and giddy and their hair dusted with a smattering of snow. She found herself tracing the pixelated dimple of Killian’s cheek with her thumb. Gods, she loved this man.

‘I remember taking that photo,’ David chuckled from beside her as he cast a glance at the phone clutched in her hand, ‘right before the three of you bombarded me with snowballs.’

She smiled lightly at the memory, ‘It wasn’t my idea!’

‘Yeah, yeah, blame the boys who aren’t here to defend themselves.’

The boys – _her_ boys.

The 'Welcome to Storybrooke' sign was suddenly illuminated by the headlights of the truck and all of the tension returned to Emma’s body.

‘No news is good news right?’ she found herself asking.

‘Yeah, it’s only been an hour or so I guess. The surgery will probably take a while. From what Robin said, the damage to his lungs and his shoulder will take some looking at.’

For the second time that night, Emma whispers a quiet prayer.  
\---------  
David had been right; the surgery had indeed taken ‘a while’ (three further hours of sitting in the waiting room of the hospital surrounded by Killian’s colleagues from the station). Robin had pulled her into a firm hug when they arrived and filled them in on the little they knew from the surgery so far. Other members of the fire crew were slumped in chairs across the waiting room. They introduced themselves in turn and the guilt gnawed at Emma when they stressed how pleased they were to finally meet, ‘Henry’s Mom.’

Killian would have been well within his rights to have badmouthed her to them. To have explained how she kicked him out of their home of nearly two years, then pushed him to move away from his friends. He had clearly done no such thing.

She should have known better.

Eight pairs of eyes swung towards the door when it was pushed open but Emma’s heart sank slightly when there was only a leggy brunette and an elder lady with glasses perched on the tip of her nose on the other side.

A flicker of something which she doesn’t quite want to address shoots through her. She can’t quite bring herself to question the relationship Killian has to this beautiful woman who is clearly distressed by his injuries. Emma barely registers as greetings are made, instead going back to wringing her hands together in her lap.

She’s pulled from her reverie as a warm takeout cup is pushed into her hands. She looks up to see the brunette smiling down kindly at her.

‘Hot chocolate with cinnamon.’

The surprise must have registered on her face as the brunette – Ruby, she learns – explains. ‘Your boy, Henry, comes in for breakfast when he visits Killian. My Granny and I run the diner down the street from Killian’s apartment. Your boy talks – a lot!’ That earns a snort form Emma. ‘He explained that his drinks order was his Mom’s favourite drink too. Thought you could do with one.’ She shrugs her shoulders as if this act of kindness is nothing. Emma is grateful that Killian has such people in his life and curses herself for earlier feeling threatened by her presence.

She has no right to question Killian’s relationships anymore either. Not that he had ever given her reason to really doubt him.

‘He’ll pull through this,’ Ruby asserts firmly.

Something about Ruby’s optimism makes Emma hopeful yet she can’t help but ask what makes her say it. Ruby hesitates before grasping Emma’s hand, ‘He has too much to lose.’

And Emma finds herself swallowing back the tears as she is faced with the enormity of her mistake in pushing Killian away. It had achieved nothing except their joint misery. She was supposed to have freed him but she finds herself surrounded by a room full of strangers treating her as a friend because they feel they know her. Feel they know her because in all the ways that mattered Killian was still hers (as she was his).

Finally, finally, the door swung open to reveal an exhausted looking doctor. Gods, he was smiling. Emma was on her feet in a second.

‘Is he…was it…’ She swallowed thickly as words failed her.

‘The surgery was a success,’ he begins and the news is greeted with a collective sigh of relief, ‘Killian’s made of tough stuff. The burns were not as bad as was first feared. We’ve stopped the internal bleeding caused by the cracked ribs and the shoulder surgery went as well as can be expected. He’ll require quite rigorous physiotherapy to get him back in action but he should make a full recovery.’

A part of Emma registers that the doctor must also be a part of Killian’s life in the way he uses his first name. A thought that is confirmed when Ruby flings herself into his arms and kisses him soundly on the mouth.

David looks fit to do the same but settles instead for pulling the surgeon into a hug instead. Emma feels frozen to the spot. Doesn’t know how to move forward from here. She thought she was going to lose him. She’d always been okay alone until she knew what it was to share her life with someone in the way that she had with Killian.

  
She could do it alone (she just no longer wanted to).

His colleagues and friends slowly filter away to go home and shower and sleep. The news that he likely won’t wake up for a couple of hours and that visitors would be limited to family leaves only her, David and Robin alternately slumped in the chairs outside and inside his room.

When it is her turn to sit with him, she perches on the edge of the hospital chair by his bed and feels completely overwhelmed by being in his presence for the first time in months. He’s pale and there are a series of angry bruises blossoming across his face and chest but he’s here and so is she.

She doesn’t allow herself to reach out and touch him. She won’t take that liberty when she doesn’t even know if he wants her here.

It’s not long after Robin has relieved her so she can try and nap in the chairs outside his room that she hears the fire captain’s frantic cry – ‘He’s awake!’

She and David are on their feet in an instant. David calls for a nurse as he strides into the room. Emma watches through the glass, glued to the spot. Robin is trying to calm Killian as he thrashes against the tube down forced down his throat. His room is then a hive of activity as the medical staff remove the tube which had been god-damn breathing for him and the surgeon comes to check his progress. Finally satisfied, they leave Killian to rest – thankfully turning a blind eye to the number of visitors in his room.

David must suddenly feel her absence because he turns to locate her and meets her eyes through the glass. The emotions of the day are suddenly all too much. The certainty she had previously felt evaporating into the air.

She does what Emma Swan does best.

She runs.  
\---------  
In the rush of activity, he hadn’t initially noticed that Emma wasn’t beside him. Too focussed on the fact that his best mate was lying in the hospital bed before him to notice that she remained rooted to the spot the other side of the paned wall.

When he reaches to his right expecting to find her there, he feels panic rise within him once more. He has known and cared for Emma for long enough to know that she can take care of herself, but he wishes (not for the first time) that she wouldn’t be so god dam afraid to let people take care of her.

When he meets her gaze he can almost see the vulnerability being erased from her features as she knits her brows together. He knows what is to follow. Knows she will turn and bolt.

(He also knows she will return when she’s ready. He likes to think he’s learned when to prod and when to give her space after all these years.)

Killian’s eyes flit around the room before settling on him and Robin. Judging what little he can from the medical conversations which just took place and the number of lines going in and out of his friend, he’s pretty sure he’s on a potent cocktail of pain meds and Killian’s voice is weak when he rasps, ‘What happened?’

Knowing that Robin is the one to explain how Killian had ended up here, David steps outside to ring his wife and update her. There’s also a part of him which doesn’t think he can quite take hearing about the accident again. He’s proud of his friend’s actions and frankly astounded by his bravery, but he’s also horrified at how close they came to losing him.

  
He’s not ashamed to admit that he breaks down when he hears his wife’s voice. He’s held it together for Emma since she had rung him a few hours ago (Was it really only eight hours ago?) but hearing the comfort of Mary-Margaret’s voice cracks his armour.

Mary-Margaret asks after Emma, the tone of her voice indicating that she knows the answer before it is even given. He promises to call again in a couple of hours when Henry awakes to reassure him first hand.

Emma has faced more than her fair share of demons in her life, but the hardest part has always been watching his sister (in all the ways that matter) push away the good things, believing herself unworthy – cursed somehow to a life of misfortune. It was almost as if she viewed Henry to be her one stroke of good luck. He wondered if she would ever come to realise that there was no luck involved. Henry was a brilliant lad because of his brilliant mother.

As a hand falls on his shoulder, he swipes at his eyes before turning round to greet Robin.

  
They exchange farewells as Robin promises to return in a few hours. He has more than a few hours of paperwork to fill out at the station following the accident but David recognises that Robin, as he himself does at the police unit, puts his men first. He’ll be back to check on his friend before long. Paperwork and the authorities be damned.

  
Killian’s brows are knit into a tight frown when David once more takes up residence - in what must surely be the world’s poorest excuse for a comfortable chair - beside the hospital bed.

He scoots the chair closer to the bed. The legs screeching unkindly on the floor. ‘Good to see you’re your cheerful self then.’

He’s pleased to see his terrible humour quirk a smile on his friend’s face. Killian’s voice remains quiet but the earnestness of his thanks to David for coming is not lost.

‘Of course, mate,’ David nods in return.

‘I didn’t mean for her to have to come.’ It’s uttered so quietly that David isn’t sure if he’s supposed to hear or not. That explains the reason for the frowning then. Robin must have filled him in on that part of events too.

He tries to imagine how it must appear to Killian. That the woman he loves had driven through the night to come to the hospital but had disappeared as soon as he awoke.

  
He really doesn’t want to speak on Emma’s behalf but he’s so tired the words are leaving his mouth before he truly realises it.

‘Killian she’s here because she wanted to be. Not because she was the person they called. Who would you have changed your emergency contact to if you’d remember anyhow?’

He doesn’t truly give Killian a chance to speak before he continues. ‘Me? Yes, and you know the only thing it would change is that I would have rung Emma to inform her before the two of us came down here and not the other way around.’

Killian doesn’t make to offer a counter argument which is a testament to how exhausted he must be. They’re all tired and frankly, David’s tired of seeing his two best friends be so unhappy without one another.

‘Killian, look -’ he draws a hand through his hair. God where does he start? ‘- she never stopped caring. I can’t, I can’t speak for her but she has waited desperately by your side for hours. It’s been a tough night for her and she just needs to catch her breath. It isn’t because she felt her duty to be here was done. That’s not her.’

‘I…I know that.’

He shouldn’t be surprised that Killian’s next words are to ask after Henry. Nor should he truly be surprised that Killian then sees fit, even in his current state, to make a jibe at David’s watery eyes.

David clutches his hands over his heat in mock outrage, ‘In your own words, you can ‘sod off’.’

The laughter that bursts forth from Killian at his friend’s shoddy British accent is more reminiscent of the distinctive chuckle David recognises and they spend the next twenty minutes or so discussing anything other than why he is in the hospital bed. David does most of the talking for once.

He feels the moment Emma returns even with from where he is sitting with his back to the door. The atmosphere in the room changing as Killian’s eyes lock with hers. His friend suddenly looks nervous and embarrassed and David excuses himself to make a few phone calls. He’s not sure if Emma’s cheeks are flushed from the cold outside or the situation. He squeezes Emma’s shoulder on his way past and doesn’t miss the fact that she quickly gives his hand a squeeze with her chilled fingers. She’s nervous too – he realises.

He walks away from the room without looking back. Hoping against hope that something good will come from this mess.  
\---------  
She’s fairly certain her legs are shaking as she stands on the threshold to his hospital room. David’s swift exit has left them alone and she finds herself unwilling to move forward if it means breaking his gaze. Looking at him now, it hits her squarely in the chest just how much she has missed him. How much she has missed the look he is giving her now; the one full of understanding.

He smiles lightly then winces at the effort and she finds herself moving forward to comfort him. She perches on the bed beside him but stops herself from reaching out. Her hand stills in mid-air before she knots them together in the sheet instead. If she thought he wouldn’t notice, she’d sit on them to prevent herself from touching him. It’s been eight months and yes, it was her own doing but that doesn’t mean that she hasn’t longed for his company – for his touch.

‘Swan,’ he breathes and the hesitance in his voice causes something in her to break. Her vision blurs with unspent tears and she forces herself to just breathe in and out. She’s afraid if she speaks now she’ll break down and she _can’t_. He needs her. Needs her to be strong and Emma Swan is done letting Killian Jones down.

‘I’m so sorry that they called you like that,’ he continues. ‘It never crossed my mind to change it.’

There’s so much more that she wants to say but she doesn’t quite know where to begin.

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’

‘I’m sorry I worried you.’

And it’s the tinge of self-loathing that slides in to his voice at the thought of making anyone worry on his behalf that has her trying to make light of the situation, ‘Damn straight. You owe be big time, Jones.’

It works. (If by working it means that something in their mutual, shy smiles gives her reason to be hopeful.)

‘Does it hurt?’ she asks softly taking note of the way there is a slight sheen to his bruise mottled skin from the exertion of sitting up.

‘I’m okay.’

‘Lie.’

Her superpower is pretty on point but she finds she doesn’t need it with him. She knows Killian well enough.

‘Everywhere bloody hurts,’ he concedes, ‘but I’m in one piece so…’

His voice tails away and they’re both quiet as they contemplate the alternative. She notes how the fingers of his hand on the bed by hers twitch; the thumb and forefinger of his hand rubbing together slightly as is his way when anxious.

She decides to be bold. David is always telling her to live in the moment, to not let the good things pass her by and so she reaches out her hand to tangle her fingers with his.

She’s in. She’s all in and she needs him to know that.

‘Emma?’ He says he name like a question. She can’t deny that he has every right to do so.

She squeezes his fingers in hers.

‘I missed you.’ She figures the simple truth is the best place to start. ‘I really missed you and I’m…I’m so sorry that I hurt you. That I hurt us.’

He squeezes her fingers back and it’s all the encouragement she needs to continue. She shifts a little closer on the bed. ‘I thought it would keep you safe. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought I would damage you somehow. That you would be hurt by being with me and then you got hurt anyhow.’

She realises that David’s words in the car were right. Killian had known her reasons all along. There is sadness in his eyes but no shock or surprise at her admission. She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to find a man so right for her. A man who calls her out on her crap and encourages her and loves her - and her son- dearly.

  
For what feels like the thirtieth time tonight (or is it now technically morning?) tears slip down her cheek. He uncurls his fingers from hers and for a moment she panics that while he may understand he doesn’t feel the same. Her fears are instantly calmed as he gently cups her cheek and wipes away the tears with his thumb.

The noise escapes her that is somewhat reminiscent of a watery hiccough as she places her own hand above his on her cheek, anchoring them together.

‘Killian, I said terrible things to you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

‘Thank you, truly, but it’s alright, Swan.’

‘It’s not though, Killian.’ She hears her own voice rising with her emotions. ‘It’s not alright. I don’t deserve you to let me off so easily.’

Pain flickers in his blue eyes but his voice remains calm, ‘Swan, stop. Stop. That kind of thinking – that you don’t deserve happiness or forgiveness– has lead us down dark paths before. Let’s not do it again. Please.’

She searches his face for any semblance of falsehood and finds none.

‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’

The smile that lights his face might be one of her favourite sights in the world. It’s unguarded and hopeful and it nearly knocks the wind right out of her.

She wants nothing more than to kiss him. Her gaze flickers between his eyes and his lips and she sees her own actions mirrored by his. She leans forward slowly, feeling like a giddy teenager with butterflies in her stomach.

The door swings open and they are then leaping apart like teenagers too (Well, she does the leaping but the tips of his ears tinge pink). ‘Mr. Jones, I’m here to check your meds,’ the nurse announces, completely unaware of the magnitude of the moment she just interrupted.

Emma moves back so that the nurse can work and they are shortly joined by Dr.Whale. She was clearly right in her earlier assumptions that the two men know one another as the doctor – Victor – stays long after he has completed his checks and the nurse has left.

She squeezes Killian’s hand lightly and excuses herself to check in with Henry, leaving the two men to catch up properly.

Henry picks up after the first ring and asks a hundred questions before Emma can get a word in edge-ways.

‘Hasn’t your Uncle David rung?’ she questions, feeling better for hearing her boy’s voice.

She hears Henry catch his breath. ‘Yeah, but…’

She understands. Henry looks at Killian like he hangs the moon. He needs to hear this from her and so she spends the next twenty minutes filling him in. She hears the moment when his unease is finally quenched and it isn’t long before he’s asking when he can come and see Killian. Says that David has already offered to come and get him and Emma can’t help but roll her eyes at that.

If there were modern day fairy tale princes, David Nolan would be top of the list. She teases him mercilessly for his chivalry but she wouldn’t have him any other way.

When she finally ends the call to Henry she walks back towards Killian’s room feeling lighter than she has in the last twenty four hours (and if she admits it, much longer than that). She finds David tucking into a sandwich on the chairs outside Killian’s room.

‘Didn’t want to splurge and get the patient a sandwich, huh?’ she quips.

Laughing through the rather enormous bite of sandwich he has just taken, she waits for David to finish chewing for his response. He gestures to the room behind him with a nod of his head, ‘He’s sound asleep.’

Emma peers into the room to see for herself that Killian is indeed sleeping soundly.

‘I did get you a sandwich though.’

She draws her attention down to the wrapped sub on the seat next to David and almost on queue her stomach growls. She can’t remember the last time she ate anything.

‘Meatballs?’

‘And spicy sauce. Who do you take me for?’ David huffs.

‘My hero,’ she says with affection (and also with some truth. She does not know how she would have gotten through the night without him.) ‘I’ll be right back,’ she says before moving into Killian’s room.

He’s always looked younger when he’s slept. Slumber chasing away the exertion of the day and wiping the worries from his brow. Emma moves to his side and gently brushes an errant lock of hair from his forehead before leaning down to press a kiss there. ‘I’m right outside,’ she whispers, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

A contented sigh escapes his lips even in sleep.

She quietly tiptoes from his room and unceremoniously flings herself into the seat beside David to unwrap her sandwich. He tosses her a napkin as he balls up the paper from his own finished sandwich.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks him.

He nods. ‘I’m okay.’

He waits a beat.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,' she breathes, 'I am.’

Or she will be at least.

She is downright determined that Emma Swan and Killian Jones will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to the creators of Once Upon a Time


End file.
